"Hi--yes, we'll tell." If Jack, their new leader, could decide to, they
would follow him, and they yelled it out much better than any one would
suppose possible after their fright, turning their backs on Mike.
"That's good," said Joel, bobbing his black curls, from which the rain was
streaming, at the whole bunch of boys in approval, and taking up his oars
he prepared to move off. "If you'll only tell about the boat."
"Oh, I say"--Jack seeing that he was now the recognized leader, was going
to do the whole thing up in good shape--"we're much obliged, and who are
you, anyway?" he broke off awkwardly.
"I'm Mr. King's grandson," said Joel "Well, good-bye."
"Mr. King's!" Jack gave a roll over and groveled in the wet moss. "Oh, it's
all up with us, fellows," he groaned. The black dog, who belonged to him,
came and licked him all over, glaring between whiles at Joel, as if he were
the cause of the whole trouble. The bunch of boys said nothing, but
shivered in silence.
"Well, good-bye," said Joel, as he pushed off, feeling it necessary for
some one to speak, "and I hope you haven't hurt your arm much," to the
recumbent figure.
"Don't let him hurt these chaps--your grandfather I mean." Jack threw up
his head and pointed to the boys. "Only get Mike licked. We'd all of us
like that."
"What?" cried Joel over his shoulder, stopping his busy oars.
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